Why We Don't Carry Our Shells
by foreversnowynights
Summary: Two years have past since the window opened for Arthur and six months since he awoke from his coma.  Now he when takes time to look closely at his and Alfred's life, he comes to realize that he wasn't the only one hurt that day by the truck.
1. My How You Have Changed

**AN: Hello and welcome to my latest fic ^^ If you haven't already, I would suggest that you go an read **_**A Window Opens**_**. This is the sequel to that fic and although I think you might be able to read this without having read **_**A Window Opens**_** first I think it would be beneficial to you and the understanding of this fic if you did.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, but I love and envy the dude who does!**

oOoOoOo

Alfred had changed exponentially in the months that followed the accident in which I was incapacitated in a hospital bed. I could tell just with one look to his face. It was slimmer, and not in the way like he had been working out. His cheek bones were showing and his eyes, his eyes had dark circles below them and almost looked like they had begun their retreat into his thick skull. I had assumed when I first noticed all of this that it was because he had given up going to the gym in favor of sitting with me, and he just happened to forget meals as well. Hospitals were like a black hole anyways, you go in and time either flies or creeps along at a painful pace. And I guessed that was to blame for his lack of sleep as well.

But when I began to find him sitting in the living room in the middle of the night, his eyes wide and exhausted or next to my bed, on the floor completely and totally unconscious, but looking very, very uncomfortable, I knew that he was not really okay. It only seemed to me that he was in a state of transition, like he was still getting use to the idea that I was no longer in a coma and that I was absolutely fine and he still felt the need to hover over me at all times. But somewhere in the back of my brain I knew that wasn't all true. It didn't take months on end to transition.

And no one, especially not Alfred would become so vacant from my regaining of consciousness. So it became clear to me, that there might just be more behind his empty and tired eyes then just me waking up.

oOoOoOo

"Alfred, lad, why not you close your eyes for a bit?" He shook his head, though I could see just how tempting the thought was. He blamed his exhaustion on insomnia, but I knew he was forcing himself to stay awake. There was no way on earth he wasn't.

"Nah 'm fine." He murmured, his head jerking up as his chin met his chest. I scowled, feeling anger boiling in my stomach as he resisted sleep, which was obvious that he desperately needed it. "Just need 'nother cup o coffee." He began to stand but I yanked him down by his sleeve. He came down with a grunt and he shot me a dirty look. "What was that for?" He snapped sounding more lucid then he had in days.

"We're out of coffee." His angry expression melted and he just stared at me for a moment before settling his gaze on the floor, a look mounting his face as if I had just killed all of his dreams. "We do have tea though." He nodded in reply, muttering a few words that I couldn't make out but guessed they were accepting the unsaid offer of me making the tea. I stood and gave him a pat on the back and moved into the kitchen to make him some tea.

I paused as I poured the tea into two cups, glancing at our medicine cabinet. I bit my lip and opened it up, pulling out the Benadryl* and plucking out one of the pills. I walked into the living room with the tea and medicine, placing it in front of Alfred and sitting myself back down on the couch. He took the tea and looked at it with distaste, but he didn't complain. "What's this?" I took a sip of my tea and placed the cup back onto its saucer.

"Just an ibuprofen**. You were complaining of a headache earlier, yes?" Alfred's face screwed up in thought before he nodded and plopped the pill in his mouth, downing it with a sip of tea. I watched him from the corner of my eye as his head began to nod more frequently, his eye lids obviously weighting tons to him as they fluttered. Within minutes his head was in my lap and he was breathing slowly and deeply, taken by the convoys of sleep. I sighed and ran my fingers through his hair. "Oh Alfred. This is the third time this past month I've had to do that." I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling how it was no longer the silky smooth it once was, traded for oily and scruffy. "What's caused you to be like this?" I asked him though I knew he wouldn't reply. Why would he anyways, he barely spoke to me any more when he was conscious, why when he slept?

oOoOoOo

Alfred slept through the rest of the day as well as the night and most of the next day, waking up groggy and slow. "Artie!" He cried out from his room, his shout followed by a loud bang. His door slammed open, "Artie?" I turned as he stumbled into the kitchen, his eyes not on me but the two cats that followed him. I opened my mouth to speak but found my words being cut off as I was engulfed into a bear hug. I gasped in surprise but didn't push him away as he held me.

It was the first hug I had received from him in three months. Three long months with any sign of affection from the idiot. It wasn't as though I craved it, but it felt so strange not to receive a lung crushing hug every day from him. I hugged him back and he relaxed, murmuring words I guessed were to comfort himself more than me. After a few minutes had passed he released me with a quiet apology for the hug, which I turned down and gave him a pat on the back.

"It's fine Alfred. Contrary to popular belief I really don't mind hugging every once and a while." He gave me a shy smile and skunk back to the living room. I sighed and glanced at the phone. Tempting, very tempting, extraordinarily tempting, unfathomably, exponentially, outstandingly tempting. And a tempt that I didn't mind giving into. It was a long shot, but if the shot had any chance of hitting the target, I would take it.

I picked up the phone and dialed in a number Alfred had taught me in case I couldn't reach him, to be used in the case of an emergency. This was an emergency, right? It rang for a few moments before the person on the other end picked up.

"Hello? May I ask whose calling?" I sighed in relief and glanced around the room quickly to make sure Alfred wasn't within earshot.

"Hello Alison***, I am in need of help with Alfred."

oOoOoOo

**AN:**

***Benadryl is an allergy medication with some really strong sleepy side effects. From what I've heard you can take it as a sleep aid, but I've never tried it before.**

****Ibuprofen is a pain killer and it does wonders with headaches.**

*****Alison is Alfred's mother, for any of you who forget or who haven't read **_**A Window Opens**_


	2. The Cottage

Everything was seamlessly and meticulously put together. Oh what a wonderful and knowledgeable schemer Alison was, giving me millions of ideas as well as the means to do so, the means being keys to a small beach side cottage the family owned as well as to the family whaler*. She had said it was Alfred's favorite place to visit when he was younger but after he had moved to the city he just didn't have the time or money to go gallivanting to the coast every weekend to relax, and relaxing he did defiantly need now. I called Alfred's workplace and got him the summer off, telling them he was going to visit family in a far off country.

The day after everything had been put into place I packed Alfred into the car telling him that it was just a trip to the grocers because we needed more coffee and I didn't know which kind he drank. Luckily Alfred didn't fight me on the matter and fell asleep within minutes of getting in the car, rocked to sleep by the motion of the vehicle, the only sounds filling the car after that being the soft and even breaths that left Alfred and the sound of the tires rushing over pavement.

oOoOoOo

The driveway was long and winding, cobble stone laying the path of the driveway and long stalks of green wispy grass on either side, a small stone cottage at the end of the drive. It felt as if I had just driven into a painting. I glanced over at Alfred and reached over to his as I put the car into park. "Alfred," I said just loud enough to rouse him, but not loud enough that it was a yell. "It's time for you to get up, were here." His head bobbed a bit as he nuzzled his seat belt, yawning and blinking lazily.

"We at th' Stop 'n Shop?" He mumbled rubbing his eyes. It was hard not to smile at the sleepy man, he seemed so much like a child right then. Alfred sat up and looked around, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion. "Artie, this isn't Stop and Shop**." He said sounding more lucid than before, though still achingly tired.

"It's Arthur." I said, "And yes I am well aware of that." He looked at me, his eyes sparkling with happiness as he realized where I had taken him too (it being blatantly obvious both before and after he had said that we were not at Stop and Shop), and grinned.

"Did you plan this?" I nodded.

"You're mother helped quite a bit." I admitted as he pulled me into a bear hug. "I can't take all the credit for this." He laughed and nuzzled my hair.

"Thank you Artie." I laughed, ignoring the botched name he gave me in favor of hugging him back.

oOoOoOo

Settling into the small stone cottage wasn't an issue and was accomplished quickly, Alfred running about and playing with stupid thing like light switches and doorknobs the second he had finished tossing his clothes into his dresser, no organization needed (or wanted). I couldn't help but smile as he ran wild through the cottage, touching everything and smelling everything. It seemed as if he had returned home.

"Arthur!" He shouted with much enthusiasm. "Arthur can we make a fire tonight?" He asked running up to me, his eyes wide and begging. "Please Arthur? Can we have a fire and roast marshmallows?" I laughed and gave him a pat on the head (as he stood on the stairs just a few steps below where I was situated).

"I see no reason why we can't Alfred." He let out a childish squeal, lifting me into his arms and spinning me around as I screamed at him. "You git! We're on the stairs!" I gave him a smack on the head and he let out a whine.

"But Artie!" I rolled my eyes.

"Oh hush you, and go fetch some fire wood." His grin came back to its full 100 watts and he ran down the stairs, out the door and into the yard with an ecstatic shout.

oOoOoOo

The fire Alfred had built was large and roaring, the flames reaching far above four feet. He had set a large blanket down a few feet away from the fire as well as having sharpened some long sticks to a perfect marshmallow roasting point. I couldn't help but pat myself on the back at the way he radiated with pride over building the fire and fetching us some marshmallows. His ego even got to the point in which he thought he had to roast my marshmallows himself, though I didn't mind that too much considering how he got them just right every time and mine tended to burst into flames the second they touched the flame for some reason.

Alfred, at some point, had begun reminiscing of his childhood, telling him his wild tales of stealing the keys to the boat and driving it into the ocean (nearly crashing it into the rocks might I add) along with collecting some of the small crabs that scampered along the beach and placing them in his brother's bed. He had brightened up back to the way I knew him, though I could feel in the pit of my stomach (right along with the crash of a sugar high brought on by far too much chocolate and marshmallows) that this would not last and eventually he would once again slip into that haze of depression. I had to catch him before he fell once more. I didn't know if he could handle it, if I could handle it. I had gotten so used to Alfred's loud voice and booming laugh that once they were silence it was like the light in my world that had appeared so swiftly to save me from my own fall had shut off. No sorry, the light at the end of the tunnel has been shut off due to budget cuts.

Well sorry budget cuts, you are not cutting here once more.

oOoOoOo

I didn't know when I had fallen asleep. But I woke up in my own bed, the moon's rays flooding through my curtains and lighting my room. I blinked sleepily, but stood, stretching out my arms, freezing as the joints popped and a sudden sound that was defiantly not the popping of gas bubbles in my joints exploding***. My arms fell to my side and I moved swiftly, bursting into Alfred's room. He let out a scream and shot up in bed, his eyes wide and frightened. I was at his side as fast as my legs could carry me, pulling him into my arms and letting words of comfort flow from my mouth. "Shhh, it's okay Alfred, it's all right. Everything is fine, nothing to cry about. It's okay." He shook his head into my shoulder and sucked in air desperately as he cried.

"Not okay," he sobbed, "Not okay." I pushed him back a bit, taking his face in my hands.

"What's wrong Alfred?" He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"It's too dark." He mumbled. My brows knit together and I let out a soft chuckle.

"Alfred, are you afraid of the dark?" He nodded feverously, and tears began to pour once more as he pulled me into a hug once more.

"Don't let it get me Arthur." He mumbled. Had I known better, I would have said he sounded a bit insane. "Don't let it get me." I wrapped my arms around him once more.

"Never Alfred. I will never allow it."

oOoOoOo

**AN:**

**Hey, so just a quick warning to you guys, chapters might end up being a bit scattered with the updates. Due to a surprise open window, I might be relocating to France for 6 months starting I do believe in March. My family is currently third on the list to go, but because it's a business thing and because my dad is a manager we just might end up going.**

***A whaler is a smaller sized boat, not like a raft but a little bigger than one. I'm not sure why it's called a whaler, but I don't think they're used for actual whaling. From what I can remember when I was learning how to drive a whaler is that they're similar to driving a car, just you're in water and it's harder to stop. (stupid inertia) **

****Stop and Shop is a grocery store in New England (more in Massachusetts I think though). Shaw's is another big one in New England as well (in case I mention that one).**

*****When you crack your knuckles or some kind of joint like that it's not the bone or cartilage, it's the gas bubbles that have become trapped in-between the joint exploding. Cool, yea?**


	3. Hiatus

I have to apologize profusely for this, but I'm putting this story on hiatus. I've never actually had to put one of my stories on hiatus before, but unfortunately this story has just been giving me such problems lately, and because of school as well as my brain giving me ideas for different plot bunnies, and not a plot bunny for this. I'm hoping to end the hiatus after Anime Boston (after April 8th).

I'm really sorry!


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